18

I had my first row with Guy a week after Gord and Nancy’s do.

I knew his perfect husband act would eventually crumble. It was simply a matter of finding the right trigger to set the destruction in motion. To start the rot that revealed the cracks in his perfect façade.

It was inevitable. So much so I was almost willing it to happen. Then I’d be alone again. Back in my hard little shell. Immune to all hurtful feelings. Protected from human contact. Comfortable in my isolation.

Familiar territory for me.

It started off as most married spats do – with an innocent question on my part. At least it seemed innocuous to me.

It was a sunny Sunday morning. Beyond the window, blue spring skies were dotted with patchy white clouds. A half-empty pot of coffee sat on the bedside table and croissant crumbs littered the duvet. We were sprawled out reading the papers. I’d just finished reading an article about foster kids living in unsupervised hotels and had lingered over the paragraph that described an entire family of siblings, aged two to fifteen, forced to live in a grungy motel room rather than split the group up between foster homes.

The Carla incident was still making me irritable and edgy. Maybe she was shacking up in one of those places. I felt the stirrings of anger. How many kids were living in dives like that? As far as I could tell, way too many. Nothing had changed in a system that was already broken when I passed through it.

Birdie and I saw our share of grimy motel rooms after the Donna fiasco. That was one reason I hated traveling. I had no idea why anyone would choose to pay big money to sleep on mattresses that thousands of random strangers had slept, dribbled and screwed on. And just because you choose an expensive hotel doesn’t make it any better. Rich people sweat and screw just the same as everyone else. For all I knew, the thick mattress cover in our luxury Vegas hotel was probably hiding a multitude of gross stains. Not to mention bedbugs.

I’d rather buy a tent and go camping. Any day.

I put down the paper and curled my arms around Guy’s waist, resting my head on the silky skin of his chest, tracing a finger down the faint line of hairs below his navel. “How’s your inner-city drop-in project going?”

“What’s that?” he said, casually.

“You know. The drop-in school for homeless teens.”

He sighed and I sensed the tension as the muscles shifted in his shoulder.

“We put it on the back-burner. Dad needs help with his new app, so I’m cutting down on my university teaching for now to give him a hand.”

“You’re kidding.” I sat up and grabbed my newspaper, holding it up like a trophy. “I just read this feature. It says there’s way more kids living in seedy hotels and motels. They barely have any supervision. Nobody checks that they go to school. They just drift from one house to another, sleeping on couches or mooching around malls during the day, which basically makes them easy pickings for all the predatory weirdos and perverts out there.”

Guy looked bemused. “Don’t you think I already know that?”

A buzzing started up in my head. I raised my voice to drown it out. “Apparently you don’t if you can just cancel your project like it’s an inconvenient hair appointment.”

He raised his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Hold on. Did I say cancel?”

By that time I didn’t want to listen. I was on a roll. “You don’t understand. There’s no time to waste. We’re raising a whole generation of illiterate kids who’ll gravitate towards a life of crime and addiction. I’d say there’s a massive demand right there.”

“Won’t you just back up a bit here.” He took off his glasses and wiped them. His eyes appeared vulnerable and unfocused without the lenses to sharpen them. He squinted at me and I sat back against the pillows, shaking.

“Okay.” I nodded.

“I want you to work on it with me. But first, we need to do something about your job.”

“What about my job?” The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.

“Maybe it’s time to quit that place.”

“Says who?”

He reached his hand out to touch mine. I jerked it away into my lap. “I do – well, Dad mentioned it. He thinks maybe you could come to work with us for a while and then, once you get some experience, we’ll go back to my project.”

“I barely know your father and he’s trying to organize my life.” My voice rose as the thudding in my head started up again. Even though I’d flirted with the idea of working for him, I balked at Gord’s arrogance. I wouldn’t be a pushover like Guy and Nancy.

“In case you hadn’t realized, he’s now your father-in-law. Not some random stranger.”

I sat up, feeling the familiar sense of panic that set in when other people tried to steer the course of my future. To send me away, take me in, uproot me and rip me away from everything I knew. I’d vowed long ago I’d never be at anyone’s mercy again. “He has no right to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do without talking it over with me first.”

The newspaper slid off the duvet onto the floor. Guy’s shoulders stiffened. “It’s not like that, Anna – just listen.”

“Maybe he’s ashamed of his new daughter-in-law. He thinks I should be doing something more acceptable to his upscale corporate friends.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Guy’s eyes widened. “He’s just trying to be helpful. So am I for that matter.”

I pulled the sheets up to cover my nakedness. “You call it help. I call it interference. And just because he has you tucked into his back pocket doesn’t mean he can do the same thing with me too.”

As soon as the words were out, I wanted to bite them back. How could I say those things when I’d actually crawled into Guy’s pocket like some greedy parasite, consuming everything he had to offer?

“I’m sorry,” I said, my hand flying to my mouth. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t get it,” he hissed. “I don’t get you.”

I tried to backpedal. “I mean I appreciate everything he’s done for you – for us.”

It was too late. Guy threw the sheets back and moved far away from me. “I share my money, my home, my family, my love with you. I don’t pressure you about your past. God knows what you’ve been through. But I don’t care. I respect your privacy. No questions asked – and you dare to say I’m in my father’s pocket because I’m in business with him, and a successful business I might add.” He clambered out of bed and began to gather his breakfast dishes. “You certainly don’t mind reaping the benefits of it. In fact, if I took a look in that closet, I’d say you were pretty much reveling in it.”

My breath came in short bursts. I wanted to go back in time and replay the past minute. I tumbled out of bed, dragging the covers with me. “I’ve got a wicked tongue. I swear I don’t know when to shut up. I didn’t mean it.”

He dragged his sweats on, his face tight and pale. “Sure you didn’t. Take a good, long look at yourself, Anna, before you start preaching to me.” Then, pulling on his sweatshirt and shoes, he slammed out of the condo before I could say another word.

I sank back onto the edge of the bed, black dots dancing in front of my eyes, nausea swelling my gut. Why couldn’t I keep my stupid mouth shut? I’d promised myself to stay calm this time. Keep my thoughts to myself. That’s how I’d managed to escape the streets. By being the one in control. By keeping a low profile and waiting for the right moment. It’d worked for me time and time again and I’d vowed it would work this time with Guy and Gord. I needed it to work. The stakes were too high and I couldn’t jeopardize everything I’d planned just for a job at a lousy school. This was what I’d wanted. Surely it wasn’t too late to get things back on track.

But the first thing I had to do was apologize to Guy. Make it right.

I gulped down three cups of coffee then tried his phone but he wasn’t answering. I figured maybe he needed time to cool off. I’d touched a nerve with my comment and now he wanted to make me pay for it. He was just like all the rest of the people in my life – vengeful, vindictive. Not happy unless they could get back at you in some mean, spiteful way.

Like Birdie.

After she started hanging out with Loni, she did a total one-eighty. The little girl who’d clung to me and made all the hurt go away, suddenly took pleasure in making me suffer. And each time the pain was worse.

But I couldn’t think about that. My head was in turmoil. One minute I was agonizing about how Birdie and I had drifted apart and the next, I was longing to make things right with Guy.

I picked up my keys. A drive would clear my head. Help me think.

I drove towards the Stone Arch Bridge again, parked the car and sat watching the falls. The scrappy spring breeze gusted in through the window, bringing with it the faint sulfurous stink of the river. I closed my eyes and tried to think. Back to Birdie and what eventually happened at the end of the Donna placement.

Birdie and I started going to the mall by ourselves. Sometimes at night. Donna was in such a dark phase she’d forgotten we lived there. As long as her girls were locked in their bedroom, she didn’t worry about us.

At first, I was glad Birdie asked me along with her until I spied Loni and Duane slouched against the wall by the Lego store. I grabbed Birdie’s sleeve.

“I don’t wanna go with them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Piss on Donna and her loser friends. I’m starving. You want a burger, fries and onion rings? So tag along and learn. I’m sick of begging.”

Loni looked different. Nice hairstyle, silver earrings and wearing a white quilted jacket with gray fur trim. Her eyes lit up when she saw Birdie.

“If it ain’t my little sister, Birdie. Babe, you gone skinny like a weasel,” she squealed, hi-fiving Birdie. A massive grin cracked my sister’s face. The first genuine one I’d seen in months. I felt a stab of jealousy. I wanted to punch Loni in her big, wide face. And she could see right through me because when her heavily lined eyes rested on mine, her mouth drooped. “Pick up your face, bitch, or Duane and me’ll give you a whooping.”

Birdie whispered something in her ear and Loni glanced back at me. “Okay, she can come, long as she stays back and don’t cause no trouble.”

I trotted behind them, salivating at the thought of a juicy burger and hot, salty fries. And when Loni, Duane and then Birdie took turns stealing clothes and makeup from the stores, I pretended to be looking through the racks. They’d go into changing rooms, rip off the tags and then saunter out with T-shirts, underwear, pants and sweaters hidden underneath their coats. I always made sure to leave the store before them. I wanted the burger so bad, but no way would I let myself get caught jacking stuff. Loni and Duane might think I was a just a stupid, dumb loser, but unlike Birdie who was a grab it while you can girl, I had a clear view of the way the world works and the future I wanted, and it didn’t include getting a criminal record. Even at thirteen, I knew you could kiss the soap opera fantasy life goodbye if you tarnished your name in your teens.

A tap on my window brought me back to the present. A parking guy was motioning me to move along. The sun had retreated behind gray clouds and a fine drizzle misted the windshield, blurring the lines of the downtown skyline. I checked my watch and realized I’d been parked there for at least an hour and Guy still hadn’t called or texted. I needed to keep moving – go somewhere or else I’d drive myself crazy, so I started driving. I passed by the apartment with the orange flowered wallpaper and pulled up outside the building. The harsh spring sunlight bleached the graffiti scrawled across the brick frontage. A couple of ragged looking junkies sat on the front steps fighting over a bottle. And the windows were so grimy I couldn’t see that wallpaper.

How had we ended up there? Was it after Donna’s or was there some other place in between? I kept thinking of those words I’d said to Guy. Curb your wicked tongue. I knew they were associated with this place but I couldn’t remember who had said them and why. I stared so hard the junkies got up and wandered towards me, so I drove away leaving them waving their arms in the air. Then it came to me. A vivid memory of a strip of cheap hotels just blocks away.

The Sunday traffic was light. I drove almost on autopilot, wondering if I should call Guy, but I had no idea what to say. No relationship in my dating history had ever lasted longer than a week, so I had no words for making up with someone. I’d never done it in my life.

Except with Birdie. I’d begged her like a dog to let me back. And it didn’t work.

I drove up and down the strip of cheap motels, trying to find the place Birdie and I had lived. A long row of crumbling brick and concrete cubes built in the sixties. Painted yellow or pink, with rusted stairwells and fancy names like Capri, Palm Court or Tropicana Bay. I circled round each block, checking out the flickering neon signs.

Finally, I settled on the Capri Motel, a pale pink cube with open balconies on each floor and a dried up, cracked shell of a pool surrounded with wire fencing. It sat next to the offices of Godfather Bail Bonds, a sooty brick structure with broken shutters, the mustard yellow block of Kaiser and Siegel, Attorneys at Law and the Hidden Treasures Pawnshop. Finally, three pickup trucks were parked outside a long, low one-story white building with red shutters that boasted, Strippers Nude Daily. Every hour. Girls, Girls, Girls.

I remembered. There’d been no placements available, so after Donna was arrested, we ended up at the Capri just half a mile from the mall.

“I’m hungry,” I’d said, staring at the faded forest scenes hanging on the dull yellow walls. Birdie glared at me. She was back hanging out with Loni a lot more, and had picked up her language and her screw you attitude.

“For crying out loud, now you’re whining too. I told you I’ll go get us some food. Just sit tight and keep quiet.”

After she stomped out, I took stock of the situation. I had a dollar in my pocket, so I went down to the vending machine in the front lobby and bought a chocolate bar. I filled a plastic water cup and sat down on a flea-bitten plaid couch to eat my supper. As darkness fell, people emerged. Night creatures afraid of the sun. A man opened a door on the second floor and shoved a girl inside by the scruff of her neck. Two drunk guys staggered up to the third floor and almost fell backwards down the stairs. My stomach felt queasy. This was not a safe place. I had to get back up to our room and barricade the door.

I let myself in and switched on the TV. At least we had entertainment. Half an hour later someone bashed on the door. I froze. Until I heard the faint sounds of Birdie’s voice and a whole lot of giggling in the background.

“Pizza delivery,” she squealed, breaking up into a fit of laughter. I could tell from her slurred words she’d been drinking. She burst in with Loni and Duane. A couple of other older kids I didn’t recognize slouched in behind them.

“Pizza partay,” shrieked Birdie. She was drunk or high, sashaying around the place, pulling open drawers and flicking the remote.

Loni opened a pizza box and a fragrant scent of cheese flooded the room.

I was so hungry I’d have turned somersaults and begged on my hands and knees for a slice of that pizza, but when Loni slapped a huge piece of pizza onto a napkin and took a big bite, that was the signal for us to dive on the three boxes and stuff our faces. I dropped a piece on the carpet and lunged for it too late. When I picked it up the cheesy side was coated with hairs and dust. I was about to throw it in the garbage and reach for another piece when Loni slammed the box shut and stuck her face into mine.

“Don’t think of wasting it, bitch,” she spat. “Clean it off and eat it.”

I looked over at Birdie, but she was helping Duane open a twelve pack of beer, so I picked off the hairs and tried to forget what might really be lurking among the fibers of that disgusting carpet.

Then Birdie said she was thirsty, and Duane fed her some beer from his bottle. Everyone laughed when she guzzled too fast and it fizzed out of her nose, but she was so thirsty she wanted more and soon everyone was chugging beer except me. I sat watching them sling beer over the carpet and bedspread. At one point Birdie puked into the garbage can and Duane passed out under the coffee table. I slunk into a corner and helped myself to more slices of pizza.

After all the food was gone, Loni said it was time to quit this shithole and find somewhere more chill to spend the evening. Birdie piled up the empty boxes and said she was going too. By that time, I was too full and tired to object, so they grabbed Duane by his jacket collar and dragged him out. Besides, I had the luxury of my own bed and I was soon curled up in front of a movie.

When I woke the next day, Birdie wasn’t there. The place stunk of stale beer and the door had a hole in it where someone had tried to punch it in from the outside. My eyes burned and my head pounded. I couldn’t deal with any more crap so I called our social worker and she showed up an hour later to drive me back to her office. Birdie arrived an hour later, picked up at the mall for panhandling visitors at the entrance.